Brides of Georgia

by Connie Stevens

  “I’m merely being neighborly.”

  Dale crossed his arms across his chest. “Neighborly. Dirt farmers are not our neighbors, Auralie.”

  “Oh, stop being such a snob, Dale. There is nothing wrong with extending a kindness.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do I have to remind you that you’re engaged to Perry Bolden?”

  Her engagement was the one thing of which she needed no reminding. “The engagement hasn’t been formally announced. Besides, I’m not doing anything wrong.”

  “Auralie, think about what you’re doing.” He hissed through clenched teeth at her. “The Boldens are very influential and powerful. You’re endangering your reputation—and Perry’s. What will Perry think when he arrives home and learns you’ve been consorting with the likes of Danfield? Not to mention Thaddeus Bolden is Father’s biggest supporter. He’d be outraged if he knew you were traipsing around seeing another man behind his son’s back.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. You make it sound as if I’m committing some horrible sin.” Auralie’s ire swelled in her stomach. Her purpose in coming back to Belle’s was to escape the rigid parameters under which she was forced to conduct herself at Covington Plantation—at least for a time. “How is taking a basket of cookies to a neighbor outrageous?”

  “A family of our standing in the state is always under the magnifying glass.” He leaned in closer so he was nearly nose to nose with her. “And don’t forget the effect any indiscretions of yours could have on my future with Gwendolyn. Our wedding is less than a month away, and I won’t take kindly to you creating a scandal.”

  Auralie’s mouth fell open. “A scandal! Dale, what are you accusing me of?”

  Dale’s hand snaked out and curled around her arm. “Anything you do to create gossip will not only destroy your union with Perry Bolden, it could also ruin Father’s chances for winning the election.”

  She tried to yank her arm away, but Dale held it fast. “I’m not as naive as you think, Dale. I know why I’m being forced into this marriage. Thaddeus Bolden is paying a great deal of money to smooth Father’s way to the governor’s seat in exchange for political favors.” She pulled against Dale’s grip again and when she did so, the McGuffey’s reader she had tucked under her arm fell at her feet.

  Dale bent and snatched it up. “What do you plan to do with this?”

  She froze and her mouth refused to work. When she tried to take it back, Dale pulled it out of her reach.

  “Up to your old habits? I seem to recall Father sending you away to school to protect the family name the last time you used this book.” He glanced over his shoulder toward Colton’s place. “Little sister, teaching a slave to read is against the law.”

  “Barnabas isn’t a slave. He’s free.” The instant she uttered the words, she wished she could snatch them back, but it was too late.

  Dale’s eyes widened. “Is that so? If that is the case, Danfield is in violation of the law. Any slave owner who frees a slave is expected to see to it he leaves the state.”

  Embers of anger sparked to life within her. “Barnabas carries papers showing he is indentured to Colton Danfield, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You best mind your place and do what’s expected of you.” He shoved the McGuffey’s into his pocket. “Father isn’t going to be happy about this.” He started to stomp away, but she called after him.

  “Dale, I’m not anybody’s property. Not Father’s and not Perry’s.”

  He turned with his arms akimbo. “That sounds like you’re declaring your independence.”

  She tilted her head and considered his challenge. “Maybe I am.”

  From the doorway of the barn, Colton watched the animated discussion between Auralie and her brother taking place on the far side of the sheep fence. Mixed emotions tugged him in multiple directions. When he’d caught sight of her coming across the meadow with a basket over her arm, his heart leaped in his chest. He’d thought he’d seen the last of her after she climbed into that fancy carriage almost a week ago. Emptiness dogged his steps for days. How he wanted to tell her about the way Barnabas’s eyes lit up when Colton asked him if he’d like to learn to read. Just when he’d gotten accustomed to knowing she was close by, running into her at church, watching her laughing at the lambs’ antics, she left without so much as a good-bye.

  Seeing she’d returned initiated explosions of pure joy churning through him he didn’t want to contain. After weeks of sending his heart explicit instructions to keep Auralie Covington at arm’s length, exhilaration broke through like a landslide.

  A check in his spirit snagged his attention. In tandem with the thrill, gall burned in his chest watching the confrontation between her and her brother. He couldn’t hear their words, but their posture and gestures bespoke anger. The only thing that prevented him from charging to Auralie’s defense was the certainty that the argument was about him. Auralie was, after all, headed in the direction of the sheep pasture when her brother intercepted her. No doubt Dale Covington considered him unfit company for his sister.

  The siblings parted, and the slump of Auralie’s shoulders sent an arrow of grief through Colton. She stood looking toward his place, as if trying to decide whether to proceed. Finally, she turned and headed back to the Hancock home.

  Colton’s stomach curled into a knot of frustration. Common sense told him he had no business having feelings for a girl like Auralie. His heart disagreed.

  He set aside the ax he’d been repairing and headed to the orchard where Barnabas was pruning some of the apple trees the deer had damaged. His friend waved when he saw him coming.

  “We goin’ to have a good crop o’ apples this year, Mistah Colton, if dem deer don’t eat ‘em all.” Barnabas pulled on one of the limbs pointing out the dozens of buds. “Even better than las’ year.”

  Colton looked over the trees Barnabas had finished. He’d done his usual fine job. But examining Barnabas’s work wasn’t his reason for hiking down to the orchard. “Those men are back again.”

  Barnabas craned his neck and looked through the trees. “How many times dey gots to measure?”

  Colton swept his gaze around the perimeter of the orchard and down past the pasture where the forested land in question bordered his. “That has me concerned as well. It doesn’t generally require a team of three men to make repeated visits over a period of two weeks to determine where the property lines lie. I told you I already had words with Covington and he evaded my question about why they felt the need to take calculations across my land. Something doesn’t smell right about this.” He slapped Barnabas on the shoulder. “Just…be careful. Keep your eyes and ears open, especially when you’re out here working alone.”

  “Mistah Colton, you know I always carry my paper wi’ me.” He patted his shirt pocket. “God be takin’ care o’ me, so don’ you fret none.”

  “I know. You must think I have no faith at all, the number of times I’ve asked you about those papers.”

  Barnabas grinned. “No suh. You a man o’ faith, all right. Otherwise, why you be lookin’ over ‘cross the meadow a hundred times a day? Mm hm, I seen you—yo’ eyes hungry, searchin’, expectin’, waitin’. It take faith to believe she comin’ back.”

  Colton pursed his lips. The man was downright uncanny sometimes in the way he could look straight through Colton and see his whole being laid out like a page in a book. Barnabas might not be able to read words, but there weren’t too many men Colton knew who could read hearts.

  He rubbed his hand over his chin. “She’s back.”

  Barnabas threw his head back in a deep, rich, joyous laugh. “See there? Who says you ain’t got no faith?”

  Chapter 15

  Colton walked out of the post office and tucked a letter from his parents into his vest pocket, saving it to share with Barnabas over a cup of coffee. He crossed the street to the general store.

  “Mornin’, Clyde.”

  “Howdy, Colton. I’ll be right
with you. Sweet Pea has me rearranging these shelves.”

  Betsy cackled. “If I can get Clyde to move faster than a snail.”

  “No hurry. I’ll just help myself to the peppermint sticks.” Colton grinned and stuck his hand in the glass jar on the counter.

  Clyde dusted his hands on his apron. “What brings you to town today, Colton?”

  “I had a letter to mail to my mother and father back in Tucker’s Gap.” He patted the envelope in his pocket. “Mother must have had the same idea.”

  He didn’t mention his other errand—stopping by the land office. He loved Clyde and Betsy dearly, but Betsy didn’t always know when to keep information to herself.

  Clyde nodded. “What can we get for you today, my friend?”

  Colton sucked on the peppermint stick. “Pound of coffee, couple bars of lye soap, tin of sorghum, and a can of neat’s-foot oil.”

  Clyde gathered the items and ciphered the total. “Anything else?”

  He pulled the sweet confection from his mouth and pointed it at Clyde. “Half dozen peppermints sticks. And a box of cartridges—twenty-two caliber, rimfire.”

  Clyde set the box of ammunition on the counter beside the other items. “Fixin’ to do some huntin’?” He caught Colton’s eye. “Or are you expectin’ trouble?”

  Colton bit off the end of the peppermint stick. “Just bein’ prepared.”

  Betsy came around the end of the counter, glancing this way and that. Nobody else was in the store. “You know that fancy-pants lawyer that was nosing around?”

  Colton counted out the money for his purchases. “Maxwell Rayburn. What about him?”

  “He’s back.” Betsy pressed her lips into a tight line and gave a single nod. “He was in here this morning. Wanted to order some expensive cigars. I don’t trust him. His eyes are too close together.”

  Clyde guffawed. “Sweet Pea doesn’t like him because he called our store a second-rate establishment.” Clyde leaned forward, propping his elbows on the counter. “I’d like to know why he was orderin’ them ceegars here. Does that mean he plans to stick around instead of goin’ back to Athens?”

  Colton gathered his purchases and pondered Clyde’s question. “I’d like to know the answer to that one myself. See y’all Sunday.”

  He walked across the street where he had left Jasper and tucked his purchases into his saddlebags. With a pat on the horse’s neck, Colton mounted and reined the gelding around to the other side of town. The land office sat tucked behind the newspaper office where Colton could tether Jasper without Betsy peeking out the front window of the general store and letting her imagination run rampant.

  The front door stood open to catch whatever breeze might be stirring. Colton stepped inside. A slight man with garters around his sleeves sat at the desk, his balding head bent over his work and his spectacles perched lopsided on his nose.

  “Mornin’.” Colton greeted the man.

  The little man’s glasses slid to one side when he jerked his head up. He caught them before they hit the desk. “Good morning, good morning.” He set his pen aside and rose. “Mr…. Danville? No, no, don’t tell me.” He studied Colton through squinty eyes. “Danford? No, Daniels? No…” He tapped his finger on his nose. “Ah! Dalton! I knew I’d think of it. I never forget a name or a face.”

  “Uh, yes.” Colton held in the chuckle that tried to snuffle out. “You’re Mr. Kimber, right?”

  “Randall Kimber, at your service.” He straightened his shoulders. “And what can I do for you today, Mr. Danville?”

  Colton’s lips twisted into a half smile. “I was hoping you could give me some information.” He gestured toward the map on the wall. “May I?”

  “Of course, of course.” Mr. Kimber stepped aside while Colton moved over to the map and pointed to a section.

  “My land is right here.” He tapped his finger on the forty-acre section a half mile from the Chestatee River, then slid his finger over to trace the massive area behind his land. “I understand this section of timber is for sale.”

  Mr. Kimber shook his head. “No, no, not for sale anymore. That thousand-acre tract has been purchased. Sorry if you were interested in buying it yourself, Mr. Darnell. You’re a little late.”

  Colton tried to appear disappointed. “Oh? Someone’s already bought it?”

  “That’s right, that’s right.” Kimber bobbed his head. “None other than, uh—Theodore Bolden.” He appeared pleased with himself for having such an important tidbit of information. “Prime timberland, prime—from what I’m told. I’ve never actually seen the land myself.”

  “I see.” Despite Mr. Kimber’s mistake on the first name, there was no mistaking Thaddeus Bolden was the “old family friend” of whom Auralie’s brother spoke. Uneasiness poked Colton’s gut. If Bolden’s men went in there and began clear-cutting, they’d destroy the watershed. “Did Mr. Bolden happen to say when he plans to start cutting timber?”

  “Oh, no, no.” Kimber’s head wobbled from side to side. “Mr. Bolden wasn’t here himself. It was his lawyer—a Mr…. uh, Radford, and of course, Mr. Tom Covingdale, Mr. Bolden’s representative.”

  “Dale Covington?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s what I said.”

  Colton swallowed the remark he wanted to make, and it had nothing to do with Mr. Kimber’s inability to remember names. “Did Mr. Covington or Mr. Rayburn make any mention of building a sawmill on the property?”

  Mr. Kimber scratched his head. “No, no. Not that I recall.” A smug smile slid across his features. “And I have an excellent memory if I do say so myself.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kimber. Good day.”

  “Good day to you, Mr. Davenport.”

  Colton exited the office, pausing by the hitching rail to ponder the revelation. If Bolden had no plans to operate an on-site sawmill, how did he intend on transporting the timber? Dale Covington’s skillful sidestepping of Colton’s earlier question stirred an uncomfortable inkling in his stomach. He gritted his teeth with the realization he was about to clash with the Covington and Bolden clans.

  “Hey Colton. Hold up a minute.”

  Colton pulled his thoughts out of the shadowy recesses of speculation and looked up. Jack McCaffey headed in his direction, striding with purpose.

  “Hey Jack.”

  Jack held out his hand with its ever-present ink stains. They shook hands and Jack lowered his voice. “There’s something I’ve learned that I think you need to know. Normally, I wouldn’t divulge this kind of information until it comes out in the Sentinel, but I believe it’s going to impact you personally. Thought you might want to know before you read about it in the paper.”

  The wariness that pricked Colton in the land office heightened. “I’m listening.”

  Jack glanced over his shoulder toward the land office. “Did Kimber tell you about the land deal out by your place?”

  “If you mean Bolden buying up the timberland that borders my property, yes. Is there something else?”

  “I have a few sources from all over the state, and I’ve recently been in touch with a couple of them who have contacts within the Georgia Railroad and Banking Company.”

  Colton shrugged. “Spur only comes as far north as Athens. What’s that got to do with us?”

  Jack quirked an eyebrow. “You know the Boldens and Covingtons are thick as thieves and twice as crafty. According to my sources, Covington has a contact or two at the Georgia Railroad who owe him a political favor in exchange for some dealings that went on under the table a while back.” Jack flapped his hand, apparently dismissing the history to get to the meat of the issue. “Seems Covington is pulling some strings to bring the spur from Athens up into our neck of the woods—literally.”

  “I remember reading about his campaign promises in the Sentinel a couple of weeks ago, but you know how politicians are. They’ll spout just about anything to get elected.” Colton propped one elbow on his hand and stroked his chin. “Is this spur extension he’s talking about r
elated to that tract of timber Bolden just purchased?”

  “Bolden needs a way to ship timber to the mills south of here.”

  Colton rolled the information over and met Jack’s pointed look. “You know why Covington and his team of surveyors were taking calculations across my land, don’t you?”

  Jack turned his palms up and lifted his shoulders. “All I can say is, if it were me, I’d make a trip to the county seat and make sure my land deed was properly recorded.”

  Auralie ran her finger across the leather spines of the dozens of books occupying the shelves in Belle’s parlor. Every title she touched brought back the memory of Dale’s face when he scooped the McGuffey’s off the ground and glowered at her, knowing her intent. Surely one of these volumes was appropriate for teaching Barnabas to read.

  “Have you become bored with Wuthering Heights?”

  Auralie glanced up and found Belle eyeing her from across the room. Her copy of Wuthering Heights—with a ribbon marking her place halfway through the book—lay on the chair she’d occupied earlier.

  “No. I just thought I’d look and see what else you have.”

  Belle rose and crossed to the bookcase. “What are you looking for?”

  “Something…simple.”

  Belle cocked her head. “Simple? That’s odd since you were always the one with her nose stuck in a book when we were in our adolescence.”

  Auralie shrugged off Belle’s observation and fluttered her fingers. “I wondered if you might have something light and easy to read.”

  Her cousin narrowed her eyes. “Auralie, what are you up to?”

  “Who says I’m up to anything?” She didn’t want to engage in a debate of the moral rights or wrongs of teaching a black man to read.

  “Perhaps because I know you better than anyone.” She plunked her hands on her hips. “And perhaps because I remember the trouble you got into when you were a kid teaching the slaves to read.” She glanced out the front window that looked out across the meadow. “You aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”